Post by ryon on Feb 1, 2009 0:41:37 GMT -5
You’re hurting me.
More.
I can’t take much more of this.
Just a little more!
I’m going to black out again.
Two more seconds…
”Te quiero!”
”Je t’aime!”
He flung himself away from her, sweating , panting, vision tunneling and bile rising in his throat. He was going to vomit. The man was drained; he looked worse than an Olympic runner who’d been pushed past his limits. He would prefer the running to this, but at the same time he’d never give it up. A drug that felt terrible while it destroyed you, and felt even worse when you were destroyed. But it wasn’t an addiction. It was a choice. A decision he would make over and over and always come to the same conclusion.
”Duele? Did I hurt you?” The way her forehead crinkled in concern reminded him why he loved her. She was a greedy, life-sucking monster and he couldn’t help but love her. And she would always love him. Their bond had no description, nothing that could be explained through earthly words, and for that reason he would not try to make it earthly.
Exhausted and shattered, all Oryon could do was shake his head. Black hair stuck to tanned skin, and a warm, delicate hand slicked it back from his forehead.
“Seguro?” She cooed, pressing her heated lips against his temple. He nodded weakly again, and this time he made the effort to speak. His voice was raspy and cracked like the static over an old phone.
“Lisette. You will hurt me never,” he tucked her dark hair to his chest and swallowed, trying to breathe slower so the air passing through his lungs wouldn’t dry out his tongue so easily. His lover sighed and pressed her cheek to his collar, and all was right in the world. She had withdrawn as much energy as she needed, her legion was fulfilled to its maximum, and she could touch him comfortably without hurting him simply because she could control how much she stole. Ryon ran a hand down her smooth back, fingers sinking in the divot of her spine as she arched into him. She was so soft, so beautiful, yet so devastating and powerful. She was easily the most underestimated woman on the planet, yet she would never do anything to prove you wrong.
Until tonight.
Just as Ryon had drifted off to sleep, their door came crashing down. Beaurongeur. Lisette screamed, awaking her husband with the shrill noise. Ryon flung himself over her, protecting the woman from the immediate onslaught of fire, his skin hardening and bunching into tough scales. Lisette cried out again as the sheets around her feet caught fire and began burning her. She was healing instantly; the recently acquired legion would not let her die so easily, but it only prolonged the pain, burning and healing, burning and healing. There wasn’t much the earth dragon could do for her, and they both saw this. Lisette squirmed out from under his arms and dropped to the floor. Ryon stood up on their charred bed, taking the brunt of the fire. He was brave but not strong. He was already swaying from an agonizing head rush.
The woman stood up, grimacing against the flames that pelted her like searing hot bullets. She pressed onward, toward the remnants of their door where the man with the flamethrower stood, stance wide, just outside the hall of their hotel room. Grabbing the hot barrel with her bare hands, she wrenched the weapon away from the man and switched it off. Her singed body began healing, and she winced as it did so, but she stared down the surprised gang member with all the fury she possessed.
“Vous nous partirez, vous direz que votre patron ne nous cherche jamais encore.”
The man nodded and stared in a mixture of awe and horror as the last of her burned flesh mended, sewing itself to perfection. The dark haired beauty snarled as he hastily departed, and watched him flee down the rest of the hall. It was when he disappeared into the elevator she heard the sound that made her stomach plummet. She spun around to find Oryon collapsed on the floor, not a scale covering his heated body. The room was still on fire; the bed and curtains igniting the floor and ceiling. The demoness stooped down to her lover’s side, and with all her strength, she lifted him.
They made it out of the burning hotel safely, and soon were clad in emergency blankets provided by the local firemen. Oryon was being fed protein and iron through a tube, and being treated for minor burns on his shoulders and neck. Lisette watched, feeling helpless as the learned workers continued to administer him medicines she didn’t understand. When he awoke calling for her in the hospital, she was at his side in a heartbeat.
”We need to find a more secure home.”
”…a man says the Academy needs new teachers…”
More.
I can’t take much more of this.
Just a little more!
I’m going to black out again.
Two more seconds…
”Te quiero!”
”Je t’aime!”
He flung himself away from her, sweating , panting, vision tunneling and bile rising in his throat. He was going to vomit. The man was drained; he looked worse than an Olympic runner who’d been pushed past his limits. He would prefer the running to this, but at the same time he’d never give it up. A drug that felt terrible while it destroyed you, and felt even worse when you were destroyed. But it wasn’t an addiction. It was a choice. A decision he would make over and over and always come to the same conclusion.
”Duele? Did I hurt you?” The way her forehead crinkled in concern reminded him why he loved her. She was a greedy, life-sucking monster and he couldn’t help but love her. And she would always love him. Their bond had no description, nothing that could be explained through earthly words, and for that reason he would not try to make it earthly.
Exhausted and shattered, all Oryon could do was shake his head. Black hair stuck to tanned skin, and a warm, delicate hand slicked it back from his forehead.
“Seguro?” She cooed, pressing her heated lips against his temple. He nodded weakly again, and this time he made the effort to speak. His voice was raspy and cracked like the static over an old phone.
“Lisette. You will hurt me never,” he tucked her dark hair to his chest and swallowed, trying to breathe slower so the air passing through his lungs wouldn’t dry out his tongue so easily. His lover sighed and pressed her cheek to his collar, and all was right in the world. She had withdrawn as much energy as she needed, her legion was fulfilled to its maximum, and she could touch him comfortably without hurting him simply because she could control how much she stole. Ryon ran a hand down her smooth back, fingers sinking in the divot of her spine as she arched into him. She was so soft, so beautiful, yet so devastating and powerful. She was easily the most underestimated woman on the planet, yet she would never do anything to prove you wrong.
Until tonight.
Just as Ryon had drifted off to sleep, their door came crashing down. Beaurongeur. Lisette screamed, awaking her husband with the shrill noise. Ryon flung himself over her, protecting the woman from the immediate onslaught of fire, his skin hardening and bunching into tough scales. Lisette cried out again as the sheets around her feet caught fire and began burning her. She was healing instantly; the recently acquired legion would not let her die so easily, but it only prolonged the pain, burning and healing, burning and healing. There wasn’t much the earth dragon could do for her, and they both saw this. Lisette squirmed out from under his arms and dropped to the floor. Ryon stood up on their charred bed, taking the brunt of the fire. He was brave but not strong. He was already swaying from an agonizing head rush.
The woman stood up, grimacing against the flames that pelted her like searing hot bullets. She pressed onward, toward the remnants of their door where the man with the flamethrower stood, stance wide, just outside the hall of their hotel room. Grabbing the hot barrel with her bare hands, she wrenched the weapon away from the man and switched it off. Her singed body began healing, and she winced as it did so, but she stared down the surprised gang member with all the fury she possessed.
“Vous nous partirez, vous direz que votre patron ne nous cherche jamais encore.”
The man nodded and stared in a mixture of awe and horror as the last of her burned flesh mended, sewing itself to perfection. The dark haired beauty snarled as he hastily departed, and watched him flee down the rest of the hall. It was when he disappeared into the elevator she heard the sound that made her stomach plummet. She spun around to find Oryon collapsed on the floor, not a scale covering his heated body. The room was still on fire; the bed and curtains igniting the floor and ceiling. The demoness stooped down to her lover’s side, and with all her strength, she lifted him.
They made it out of the burning hotel safely, and soon were clad in emergency blankets provided by the local firemen. Oryon was being fed protein and iron through a tube, and being treated for minor burns on his shoulders and neck. Lisette watched, feeling helpless as the learned workers continued to administer him medicines she didn’t understand. When he awoke calling for her in the hospital, she was at his side in a heartbeat.
”We need to find a more secure home.”
”…a man says the Academy needs new teachers…”
